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Back Dog Rose Dirt Save as PDF
Chapters (52)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. Acknowledgements
  51. Also by Jen Williams
  52. About the Publisher

Heather ran the rest of the way back to the cottage, crashing in through the door, half convinced she would find the shadowy figure in the kitchen, blood dripping from his hands, but instead she found it empty. The cups from that morning’s coffee were still on the table; the lamp she had left on was still casting its soft, yellowish light. Half convinced that this quiet scene of domestic contentment must be hiding something, she did a quick search through every room in the cottage: no notes, no feathers, no photographs. The windows and doors were locked. She poured herself a glass of wine in the kitchen, and fired off a series of messages to Nikki while she sipped at it. Hey where are you? Are you staying with Harry? Pls let me know!

She hesitated, then added: I think someone chased me in the woods tonight. When you get this message, pls give me a ring.

Heather put the glass of wine down and went to her own room. She shrugged her coat off, grimacing at the mud on her hands and face. Although it seemed incredibly likely that Nikki’s date with Harry had just lasted longer than they had predicted, the empty cottage had left her deeply unnerved. Did they even know who Harry was really? He was basically a stranger, and she had let her friend go off with him. Again, she thought of calling DI Parker, but when she glanced down at her phone, she saw that all of her messages to Nikki had failed to go through. Still no phone signal.

‘All right.’ She pulled her jumper up over her head and threw it on the floor; there was mud on her hat, too. ‘I’ll have a shower and try again. No need to panic yet.’

Wincing from half a dozen new bruises, Heather went into the small en-suite bathroom to have the hottest shower she could summon.

42

Heather woke in the night with a start, her heart thumping. She had been sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep, so she had lain down on the bed after her shower, thinking only to rest her aching limbs for a moment. Yet now she had the sense of having been ripped from a very deep sleep, a sleep populated with vivid dreams of the woods at night, and …

She heard it again. The sound of something heavy moving outside, the crunch of footsteps on fallen leaves. Not, she noted, the loud and casual stomping of someone – Harry, for example – making their way home, but the careful tread of someone who didn’t want to be heard.